“You might as well sit down,” Jack said wryly, pointing to the chairs gathered around the table. Seph sat. Jack pulled four glasses down out of the cabinet and filled them with ice, then carried them carefully to the table. He turned a chair around and straddled it, resting his arms on the back and gazing at Seph. There was an awkward silence. “Is it just you and your mom?” Seph asked. Jack nodded. “My dad lives in Boston. They're divorced. I think when they bought the house they thought they'd be here forever.” He rubbed his chin. “Where are you from?”
“Mostly Toronto,” Seph said automatically. “But I've moved around a lot.” He was suddenly very tired.
“What are you, a junior?”
Seph nodded.
“Aunt Linda said your parents are dead?”
“She did.” Seph ignored the implied question, which he couldn't answer, anyway. But fortunately, just at that moment, Becka and Linda emerged from the cellar with bottles of old-fashioned root beer, glistening with condensation. They lined them up on the counter and opened them. As Becka set a soda in front of Seph, she smiled at him and rested a hand on his shoulder. Seph wondered what they'd been talking about downstairs. He didn't have to wait long to find out.
“Seph, Linda says you could use a place to stay this summer. Jack and I would love to have you here. It'll give us an excuse to finish the wallpapering in the third-floor room.”
Seph felt blood rush to his face. “Really, I—”
Becka plowed on undeterred. “It'll be great. We'll get to see more of Linda, since I know she wants to spend some time with you. And Jack can introduce you to his friends.”
Seph glanced at Jack, who probably knew better than to object. “I don't really want to impose….”
“If it would make you feel better, you can help Nick with the wallpapering. There's always plenty of work to do around here. Please say you'll stay.”
Wordless, Seph nodded. Jack's mother was hard to refuse.
“Then it's all settled.” She smiled at Seph. “Why don't you bring in your things?”
Seph looked at Linda for help. She jumped in quickly. “We don't have much, because we … ah … were in a hurry. We'll get you some clothes tomorrow, Seph.”
“I bet some of Jack's old clothes will fit him,” Becka suggested. “The ones from before that growth spurt last year.” She laughed. “We have clothes in three sizes upstairs. They're scarcely broken in.”
They changed the subject. Linda asked about Becka's work, and people Seph had never heard of. Their voices gradually faded to a kind of buzzing sound. Seph opened his eyes to find everyone staring at him. He'd actually fallen asleep at the table. “Sorry,” he whispered, mortified. “It's not that you're boring. Really.”
They all laughed. “Jack, why don't you show Seph upstairs and help him make up his bed?” Becka suggested. “And you need to get to bed also. I hope you found time to study before your aunt came.”
Jack carried his glass to the sink, then nodded toward the back staircase. They climbed the narrow stairway to a landing on the second floor. Jack scooped up an armload of sheets and towels from a linen closet in the hall, and they ascended another flight of stairs to the third floor.
There were four rooms on the third floor, three of which were crammed floor to ceiling with old furniture, filing cabinets, and boxes of books. The largest room was sparsely furnished with a double bed, bookcase, and dresser. One and a half walls were papered in a William Morris print. More rolls of paper and a wetting tray leaned against the wall. There was a bathroom off to one side. The bed was stripped, and everything was covered with a fine layer of dust. It was suffocatingly hot and stuffy.
“I planned to move up here if it ever got finished,” Jack explained. “Maybe now it'll finally happen. I hope you're not allergic to dust.” He dropped the linens on the bed and muscled one of the windows open while Seph went to work on the other, which seemed to be painted shut. With the windows open, a cool breeze carried in the soft sounds of the summer night.
Jack and Seph rolled back the comforter and laid the sheet over the pad. Seph worked quickly and efficiently, despite being half asleep. He'd made a thousand beds in his lifetime.
“Look,” he said to Jack as he crafted a perfect corner. “I'm sorry about moving in on you like this.” He couldn't seem to remember that wizards never say they are sorry.
Jack finished up his side too, less expertly. “It's okay. Really. I don't mean to be rude. I just need to get used to the idea. I guess you'd say I've had a lot of trouble with wizards.” He straightened and looked across the bed at Seph. “So you and Aunt Linda have known each other for a long time.” There was a question hidden in the statement.
“I met her for the first time yesterday,” Seph replied. “She said she's been my guardian for years, but it was news to me.”
Jack frowned. “Yeah, well…” his voice trailed off. “I'm sure there's a good explanation.”
“I guess.” Seph shrugged. “Is it true you used to go out with Alicia Middleton?”
“What?” Jack straightened, almost bumping his head against the ceiling.
“Nothing. I ran into her in Toronto is all. She mentioned your name.” He raised an eyebrow. “She seemed like bad news to me.”
Jack stared at Seph. Then shook his head. “Look, I don't know what's going on, either. But I'll tell you this: I had the year from hell two years ago. It started with Leesha and ended with the tournament at Raven's Ghyll. Ellen was the only good thing that came out of it. That and the establishment of the Sanctuary.”
He leaned on the bedframe, and the muscles stood out along his arms. “This past year has been nice and quiet. In Trinity, at least. I don't know how long it'll last, but I just hope you're not the one to mess it up.” He smiled, as if to take the edge off, but his blue eyes were cold and direct. “I'll get you some shorts to sleep in.”
When Jack came back up the stairs with an armload of clothes, Seph was already fast asleep on top of the comforter.
Chapter Eleven
The Sanctuary
When Seph awoke, the sun was sliding through the branches, dappling everything in the room. It took him a moment to remember where he was. It had been a long time since he'd slept so long or so soundly. He was still lying on top of the comforter.
A pile of clothes lay heaped at the foot of the bed. He found a toothbrush and towels and soap in his bathroom, and it was obvious that someone had cleaned in there. He washed his face carefully. The swelling in his lip had gone down, but the rest still looked pretty bad, having gone from red and purple to purple and yellow. What he really wanted to do was take a long, hot bath. Instead, he tried on clothes until he found a workable pair of jeans. He pulled on a T-shirt that said trinity SOCCER and walked downstairs.
The house had emptied out while he was asleep. Dirty coffee cups and glasses sat in the sink, boxes of cereal on the counter, and a newspaper lay spread out on the table. He poured himself some juice.
“Seph, is that you?” Linda appeared in the doorway, barefoot, wearing jeans and a tank top. She didn't look much older than Seph. “We're on the porch.”
Seph walked out onto the screened porch. The stone floor was cool under Seph's bare feet. Linda and Nick Snowbeard were sitting in two wicker chairs. Linda had a mug of tea in front of her on the glass table.
“Hi.” Seph paused. He still hadn't figured out what he should call Linda Downey. She noticed his hesitation.
“Why don't you call me Aunt Linda,” she suggested. “Everybody else does. I guess I'm a pretty good aunt,” she added, as if reassuring herself.
Seph set his juice on the table, and drew up a chair.
“Where is everybody?” he asked.
“Jack's at school. Becka's at the university.” Linda drew her feet up under her and settled the mug of tea onto her lap. “So it's just us.”
Seph took a sip of juice. His lips and tongue still felt swollen and clumsy. “What did you tell your sister about me?”
“I told her you were hiding from an abusive family. Your parents beat you, and I was unable to get you removed from the home, so I spirited you away.”
“Isn't that illegal?” Seth asked.
“Becka doesn't always play by the rules. She has a soft heart for children in trouble. I knew she would take you in.”
“I finally get a family, and they beat me up.” Seph looked at Linda out of the corner of his eye. “Well. If I'm going to be here all summer, I'd like to find some kind of part-time job.”
She frowned. “If you need money, I'll …”
“I'm used to working. I'd like to earn my spending money, at least.” Seph wanted a source of income that didn't go through Linda Downey. That wouldn't involve questions and explanations and contacting Sloane's.
“Maybe he could work for Harold Fry,” Nick suggested. “Jack's crewing for him this summer, so he might need someone at dockside and in the office.”
“Who's Harold Fry?” Seph asked.
“He runs fishing charters to the western basin of Lake Erie,” Nick explained. “He's one of my chess partners. I could put in a word.”
“Could you? I don't know much about fishing, but I'm willing to learn. Thanks.” Seph was pleased the old wizard was willing to help him. He turned back to Linda and continued his gentle interrogation. “So Jack was the warrior who fought in the famous tournament at Raven's Ghyll.”
“It was Jack and Ellen Stephenson.”
“Jack and Ellen fought each other? Aren't those tournaments to the death?”
“Well, they refused to go along with killing each other. That started it all.” She smiled wryly at the expression on Seph's face, then went on, "The Judges of the Field made the mistake of trying to amend the rules during the tournament, the first time they'd been opened in nearly a thousand years. They didn't realize that breaking the Covenant made them vulnerable. They were forced to make other changes as well. The old rules codified the rule of wizards over the Weir. Warriors, enchanters, and sorcerers may be powerful relative to the Anaweir, but we have always been at the mercy of wizards, treated as playthings, gladiators, and slaves.